daydreamdestiel:

Not This Time

They’ve been looking for Dean for months—tracking him by the traces Michael has left. There have been bodies, though fewer than they’d expected to find based on Michael’s plans. Cas still doesn’t know what they’re going to do when they catch up to him.

Jack has yet to reach full strength again, the only thing holding Sam together seems to be that he has to stay strong for Jack. And Cas … he’s trying, but it’s proving difficult. Guilt, regret, futility, they’re clawing away in his gut and rushing through his veins with every beat of a heart that for all intents and purposes is his.

Sam’s sleeping in his room, and Jack is watching Scooby Doo on Sam’s laptop, but he’s sitting in Dean’s room. It’s clear that Jack misses Dean acutely and Cas’s chest tightens as he stands in the doorway. Jack’s got one of Dean’s pillows hugged to his chest and his eyes are glued on the screen. It hurts. Not just because Cas misses Dean, too—though he does with a fierceness that rivals when Sam and Dean were locked away and he couldn’t find them—but because Jack and Sam are hurting, as well.

His family’s pain seems to add weight to his own, and Cas wants to sag under its weight. Instead he sits down beside Jack, and they watch Dean’s favorite cartoon show together.

He thinks, as they’re silently watching, that this is actually much worse than when Dean and Sam were in prison. This is their past come back to show how useless it all was. The struggling against the apocalypse, rebelling for Dean. None of it mattered, because now Dean had said yes, and Cas had been powerless to stop him.

He just wants—he just wishes that they could have Dean back. There’s nothing else in all of creation that he wants more. Dean had said that he’d come back. He’d made Cas stay behind. And the look in his eyes before he’d said yes was a thousand apologies and a plea for forgiveness. Then he was gone….

And Castiel had crumpled to the floor, the muscles holding him up suddenly giving out and leaving him in a heap of raw emotion. He’s had months to get ahold of the anger, and fear, and agony in his chest, but nothing works.

Later, when Jack goes to the kitchen, Cas stays in Dean’s room. He prays even though Dean can’t hear him—it doesn’t work like that. He prays anyway, just like he does every night.

“Dean, I need you.” He’s on his back on the bed, one arm draped over his eyes. “I need you to fight him, and keep fighting. I know he’s got you locked away in there, and I know it seems easier to stay down … but Dean Winchester, we both know you’ve never known when to quit in a fight. Don’t start now. You fight him, and you win, Dean. You said you’d be back and I need that to be true. We all do….”

His throat is scratchy and his eyes burn, and he’s so tired of pretending to be okay. He’s falling apart without Dean. They keep getting chance after chance to talk about what’s been happening between them and they never do. It’s been years, years, since he first realized that he loves Dean. And he sometimes thinks Dean might feel the same, but—

“Do you think he can hear you?” Jack asks from the doorway and Cas bolts up to sitting, wiping away the tears in his eyes.

“I—” Cas starts, then frowns, “No. It’s improbable.”

Innocent eyes wide, Jack tilts his head. “Then why…?”

“Mostly to feel closer to him temporarily,” he explains, cheeks flushing slightly with his admission.

“That’s why I watch cartoons in here,” Jack says solemnly as he walks in.

“I know,” Cas replies.

—

You fight him, and you win, Dean.

There’s nothing but static, and then there’s that. It’s dark, like he’s looking at fuzzy black on a crappy old TV. He can feel something pushing on his consciousness, pushing him back down and urging him once more into unawareness. It’s heavy and he succumbs.

I don’t know if you’re listening—it’s Jack—I— Castiel doesn’t think you can hear, but I thought … Dean if you can, I need to talk to you. You saved me. You’re family and you said we look after our own. We’re going to find you and save you.

No. Dean’s awareness flashes in. No. They can’t. If they find him, and Michael’s in control, it’ll be a slaughter. No, he needs to warn them. But he can’t. Just like he can’t stop Michael from ridin’ around in him. They’re all powerless. The pressure guiding him under is back, but Dean doesn’t let it touch him this time. He needs to plan. He needs to think.

It’s been months since we’ve seen you, dude.

Sam?

I … I don’t think this is gonna help, but Jack’s got the bright idea that you might be able to hear us. For all I know, I’m talking to myself, but I miss you, man. We’re trying to keep it together and find you because that’s the only thing keeping us from falling apart. Cas is … remember how you were? He’s like that, but bottled up. I don’t know how to help him other than finding you, but even if we do, what then? We need a plan.

Yeah, no shit you do. What the hell are you thinking, Sam? I kept Cas out of this for a reason! I can’t watch Michael kill him. I can’t watch him die again. Okay, Sam? I can’t. Dean’s anger pulses through him, his fear. He can feel it building up his energy and the walls that have been holding him back start to weaken. There’s give in them that there wasn’t before. Maybe he can harness this.

—

Dean blinks up at his surroundings. Clear blue sky overhead and he notices a rock digging painfully into his lower back. “The fuck?” he mumbles, sitting up and looking around.

Trees in a circle around him are blown down in an eerily familiar display. What happened?

The last thing he recalls is fighting Michael to expel him. It’s fuzzy ‘round the edges and there are holes in his memory, but he knows that they bitterly fought before Dean finally remembered how to expel an angel. It’d taken every damn last one of Dean’s reserves, but he’d somehow won.

After that it’s all blank until now. There’s morning dew clinging to his face and eyelashes, so he’s probably been here overnight. But where the hell is here?

It takes him a while to pick a direction and start walking, but eventually he finds a road, and that leads to a gas station. He hits the can first, and checks the mirror to make sure he doesn’t look like he just murdered someone, but nope. He’s still wearing that dickbag’s suit and hat. He tears the hat off of his head and throws it in the trash. The tie and suit jacket go next, followed by the vest and if it wouldn’t get him arrested he’d leave every stitch of clothing in that can.

Since nudity is in fact illegal, he opts to check his pockets. Thankfully, he finds his wallet still there. He opens it, and there’s enough cash there that he should be able to get home from wherever he is.

—

Yet again, Jack’s watching cartoons in Dean’s room on Sam’s laptop. Sam doesn’t even complain about his laptop being commandeered though Cas wonders what exactly happened to Jack’s laptop, but he doesn’t ask. They’re all struggling enough without looking for issues.

He’s sitting in the library with a cup of coffee that he doesn’t need to drink, but the smell reminds him of Dean and it is morning. He’s staring at the dark brown liquid and willing a lead to come up when loud banging starts up on the bunker’s repaired door. His heart races, and his adrenaline spikes. Rushing out to see who it is, he lets his angel blade fall into his palm. Behind him, he can distantly hear Sam and Jack running out to see what’s happening.

He skids to a stop moments before they do. All three of them tensing for a fight. It could be Michael. He makes a split second decision, and he sees Sam shaking his head before he starts.

“We can’t take him. Not like this. Take Jack, go out through the garage.”

Sam shakes his head harder and Jack’s eyes well up with tears. “Cas, no.”

“Sam, if it is Michael, then Jack needs to be kept safe until he can defeat him again. We don’t have a choice. Go!”

There’s another bang on the door and Sam flinches. “Cas,” he pleads.

“Sam,” Cas looks at him with all of the hurt and despair he’s been holding back, “Do this for me. For Dean, and Jack, and the world.”

Sam lets out a shuddering breath and Cas knows that it goes against every fibre of his being to run from a fight like this, to leave Cas behind, but the right thing wins out and Sam pulls along a distraught Jack.

Cas squares his shoulders and he waits. And waits. And finally, at the third round of thumps, his irritation outweighs his survival instincts. Does Michael think this is a game? He narrows his eyes and stomps up the steps.

The door’s locking mechanism takes a moment to disengage and then he swings the door wide, eyes narrowed right down to slits. He gets one beat of time to feel a mix of scorn, hatred and fear when he sees Michael standing there in Dean’s perfect body with the sunlight brightening his hair and eyes and bringing into sharp focus every freckle that Cas loves.

And then Dean’s lips spread into a smile, and that’s just it, Cas realizes, that is Dean. There’s no trace of Michael remaining on him and that’s just not—

“This is impossible,” Cas whispers, gaze travelling over every inch of Dean’s skin, fingers itching to reach out and reassure himself.

“No,” Dean says with a smirk, “I’m just Dean.”

Cas can’t help it, he rolls his eyes and lets out a breathless sort of chuckle as relief relaxes his muscles. “How?”

Dean steps closer, his hands move to rest on Cas’s waist and Cas finds his own mirroring Dean’s, fingers digging into Dean’s skin through his shirt, checking. “I heard you. All of you.”

“That doesn’t—”

“Make sense? Yeah, tell me about it, but you dumbasses were gonna get yourselves killed and … that wasn’t an option. So,” Dean shrugs a shoulder, and his eyes are so green, he’s so close. Cas Isn’t sure which one of them moves first, but one second they’re staring at each other and Cas’s heart is beating out of control and the next Dean’s lips are pressed to his, soft, clinging.

In a wild somersault, Cas’s stomach swoops. Dean starts to pull away, but Cas chases after him and seals their mouths again. Firmer. Against his lips, Dean sighs a shaky breath and he says, “Just as good as I thought it’d be.”

“Dean,” there are so, so, so many things he wants to say to Dean, but he forces himself to pull back. “We need to let Sam and Jack know that we’re both okay.”

Dean’s lips turn up in a warm smile at that, like he’s just realizing how true Cas’s statement is. “Yeah, I s’pose this can wait until later.”

Cas frowns at him, “Not too much later.”

Dean’s eyes are sparkling when he closes the door. “Nah, not too much. Not this time, Cas.”